


An Interesting Use of Vents

by adamwhatareyouevendoing



Category: Casualty (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-14
Updated: 2016-03-14
Packaged: 2018-05-26 18:45:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6251332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adamwhatareyouevendoing/pseuds/adamwhatareyouevendoing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lofty gets stuck in the ceiling vent after following Lana, so Dylan goes after him.</p><p>Prompt fill.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Interesting Use of Vents

Climbing through the vents after Lana, it is easy enough for Lofty to forget, or at least push aside, the fact he is both claustrophobic and scared of heights, so focused is he in trying to reach the distraught girl.

Only, once his mission is complete, and Lana has agreed to return to a steadier level, Lofty remembers. He freezes, suddenly realising how small the vent actually is; noticing properly for the first time how scrunched up he is, wedged in the corner from where he’d allowed Lana to climb past him.

“Um,” he manages to squeak, but the girl has crawled around the corner and disappeared from sight, probably expecting Lofty to be following her.

He shifts, and feels the metal flooring of the vent buckle slightly under his weight. He stiffens, expecting the grate to give way; anticipating the fall to the floor below. He mentally tries to work out how far away the ground is from here, and what injuries he might sustain from such a fall. He’s fallen from height before, after all he had met Robyn and Max that way, but still he’s in no hurry to repeat it.

 _It’s quite warm in here actually_ , he thinks, as his head begins to spin. The walls feel like they’re closing in. His breathing is noticeably shallower now – _oh god no, don’t start hyperventilating, don’t – too late_. He distantly wonders how he’ll ever be rescued. His vision is starting to blur. Through the haze he thinks he hears a voice calling his name, but it’s too far way, too distant, too…

***

Somewhere below, in the cubicle, Charlie, Robyn and Dylan stare up at the ceiling.

“What do we do?” Robyn asks, looking at Charlie beseechingly.

“Wait for them to come back down,” Dylan supplies dryly. “There’s no use all of us crawling up there.”

“What’s going on though? What if they’re in trouble?” she asks.

“I’m sure Lofty’s got it all under control,” Charlie says reassuringly. “If anyone can talk her down, it’ll be him.”

Neither of them look at Dylan, but he knows what they’re thinking, and he doesn’t disagree. It’s far better for Lofty to be trying to get through to the girl; Dylan would only be more likely to make her cry.

Robyn looks set to say something further, but just then a pair of legs drop through the ceiling.

“Lana!” Robyn cries in relief, helping the girl down. She sits shakily on the bed, seemingly glad to be back on firm ground.

Charlie and Robyn start fussing over her, but Dylan is still staring at the gap. “Where’s Ben?”

Lana twists her head to look up at the hole she’s just dropped from. “I thought he was behind me,” she says uncertainly.

“Lofty?” Robyn calls, but there is no response.

Dylan turns to the girl. “What happened up there?” His tone of voice is brusque, but not unkind.

“He helped me say goodbye to my mum,” she sniffs. “We spoke to her voicemail… I told her I love her.” She bursts into tears again.

Dylan leaves Robyn to pass her a tissue, but he cannot help the surge of pride he feels at Lofty’s ability to help her. He turns back to the vent. “He should be down by now,” he mutters distractedly.

“Maybe one of us should go up, see where he is?” Robyn suggests. “Something must be wrong or he’d be here,” she points out.

Silence.

“Well I won’t fit,” she says, staring at Dylan in a clear hint.

“And I’m too old to be crawling around,” Charlie chips in, looking like he’s enjoying this enormously.

Lana seems to cotton on to whatever’s happening here. “I don’t want to go back up.”

And that’s how Dylan ends up in the air vent.

The process itself is ungainly to say the least, and Dylan is certain that Robyn will tell Max with glee of how she had to give him a leg up into the ceiling. He tries not to imagine the look on Lofty’s face if he ever found out, considering how he obviously managed to make it up there himself when he followed Lana.

Still, even the prospect of humiliation is a more welcome feeling than the steadily increasing apprehensiveness Dylan feels when Lofty isn’t to be found in the first stretch of vent.

“Ben?” he calls out, hoping to hear any sounds that might give him an idea of the direction to head in. He gets to the end of the section, takes a left, choosing blindly. Still no sign of Lofty.

It’s noticeably warmer up here, the air stuffy and oppressive; he unbuttons the second button of his shirt in concession to both the heat and decency. There’s another turn up ahead, and he hopes he’s not far off, because his knees are killing him.

“Ben?” he calls again.

There’s no response, but then he reaches the turn, looks to the right, and sees why. Lofty is slumped against the corner of the vent, unmoving. A grate separates him from Dylan, but luckily it holds his weight as he shuffles across the gap. He’s about to start worrying in earnest – if Lofty doesn’t regain consciousness he has no chance of being able to drag them both out of here – when Lofty’s eyes flutter open.

***

The first thing Lofty sees when he opens his eyes is Dylan’s face, far too close to his, and swimming in front of him.

He half-thinks he must be hallucinating, but then Dylan says, “Ben,” and his view sharpens. Yep, it’s definitely Dylan, he’s definitely closer than Lofty has ever seen him, and his shirt is unbuttoned more than Lofty has ever seen it. He nearly passes out again, but for a completely different reason.

He realises he’s just been staring at Dylan, without speaking, for probably longer than makes sense. “Hi!” he tries, aiming for cheerful, but coming out raspier than he expected.

“Hi,” Dylan responds, and to Lofty’s surprise, his voice isn’t clear either; tinged with something like relief.

Then he realises where they are.

“Oh, fancy seeing you up here!” he says, trying to cover his embarrassment. The joke sounds weak even to his own ears, so he’s not surprised when Dylan fixes him with a stare.

“What on earth did you think you were doing?” Dylan’s worry is slowly seeping away now it’s clear that Lofty is unharmed, but the question isn’t asked harshly.

“I followed Lana,” he explains, “she was upset.”

“Well, it seems like you helped,” Dylan tells him. Lofty looks at him blankly. “She told us what you did – with the voicemail.” Lofty is still looking at him uncomprehendingly, and Dylan realises that he probably doesn’t know how long he’s been up here. “She already came back down,” he says, and Lofty finally gets it.

“Oh good!” Lofty gives him a lopsided smile, and Dylan tries to ignore the way it twists in his heart.

“Why weren’t you with her?” Dylan prompts.

Lofty looks away awkwardly. “I, erm – I’m claustrophobic… and scared of heights.”

“And you didn’t think of that _before_ climbing into an air vent?”

“Not really,” Lofty admits. “Lana was upset, and let’s face it, I’m partly responsible for that. Don’t –” he adds, before Dylan can try and protest his innocence again. “I am, but I also thought I could help her.”

“You did,” Dylan reassures him, in the kindest tone Lofty has heard.

He smiles gratefully. “Only then she she agreed to go back down, set off, and… I couldn’t follow.”

“It’s a natural reaction,” Dylan says. “The desire to help distracted you in the moment, but once the rush died down the fear crept in again.”

“It’s typical me though,” Lofty says, and Dylan is surprised to hear sadness in his voice.

“It is rather,” Dylan agrees, but his voice is soft, and Lofty suddenly realises that he’s looking at him as though he finds Lofty endearing. He probably doesn’t know what his face is showing, because if he did, Lofty is certain he’d be trying to cover the emotion as quickly as possible.

“How’s best to do this then?” Lofty asks, and it’s only at this point that Dylan realises exactly how close he and Lofty are. It’s half-understandable, considering the limited space in the vent, but that doesn’t really account for the proximity of Lofty’s face to his, or the way his hand is resting on Lofty’s thigh, which he definitely does not remember putting there. He thinks back: it had probably happened when he’d been trying to get Lofty back to full consciousness, but he can’t believe he hadn’t noticed until now.

Lofty follows his gaze, and looks as surprised as Dylan feels when their eyes meet.

“Erm –” Dylan says, and it’s the first time Lofty has heard him sound anything less than certain. This is a man equally comfortable with medical jargon and languid put-downs; neither are appropriate in this situation, and Dylan is clearly out of his depth.

Lofty is quickly falling out of his depth too though, especially when his gaze flicks to Dylan’s lips in the wake of his utterance.

 _Oh no_. Lofty freezes, his eyes quickly meeting Dylan’s again, hoping that he hasn’t noticed. No such luck. Dylan is still looking at him, and he must have seen. There’s something unreadable in his eyes.

Then, to Lofty’s utmost surprise, he slowly, deliberately lets his gaze drop to Lofty’s lips. Lofty’s breath hitches, and Dylan looks back up at him, amusement evident in his expression.

“I have an idea,” he says, sounding calm and in control once again.

It takes Lofty far too long to get his brain back in gear and respond, particularly considering all that leaves his mouth is, “Hmm?”

“By my assessment, if we distract you again, you might forget your fear long enough to get us out of here.”

Lofty has to agree it seems like sound logic. “What distraction?” Lofty asks, deciding not to mention that the look in Dylan’s eyes, the feel of his hand, and the continued closeness of his face is already proving to be quite effective. He hopes wildly, but wants to see if Dylan is in agreement.

He doesn’t have to wonder for long, as, with another deliberate glance at Lofty’s lips, Dylan leans forwards, and kisses him.

“Hmm,” Lofty murmurs when they move apart, “I’m still a bit scared.”

Dylan raises an eyebrow, but then he smirks, and Lofty barely has time to appreciate the expression before he’s leaning forward again.

“Better?” he murmurs against Lofty’s lips, seemingly reluctant to pull away.

“Mm, almost.”

Dylan can feel Lofty’s smile against his skin. This time, he deepens the kiss until Lofty lets out a small moan.

“Come on, I think you’re good,” Dylan says, pulling away to finally begin the crawl back.

Lofty admires the sight in front of him. “I am now!” he calls out.

“Ben,” Dylan chastises, but there’s no real annoyance in his voice.

“I’m coming,” Lofty says cheerfully, beginning the undignified crawl after Dylan. “Well, as long as you promise we can continue this on steadier, lower ground.”

Dylan’s huffed laugh is answer enough.


End file.
